New Jersey Turnpike

In faith,
the implicit is revealed
in allegory.

This God
burts forth in dangling modifiers
or conceits, in good humor.

A reflection off a taxi at Penn Station,
illumination.

An evening alone, my watch
folded on the table,
penitent and patient.

This rumination
beseeches your arrival,
barreling down the New Jersey Turnpike,
hot on the heels of expectation.

Late, so late,
my love comes to my door,
my vacuous thoughts won’t be cataloged
not a minute more.

This darling, my darling,
my bespectacled, my bride
My search, my journey,
begins at your side.